


Gasoline

by FantasticWinter



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Animal Death, Chained up, Childhood Trauma, Incest, Kidnapping, Locked up, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Serial Killer!Jack, Serial Killers, Stalking, serial killer!Cal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:47:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29757783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasticWinter/pseuds/FantasticWinter
Summary: A chance meeting at a busy supermarket thrusts Brock into a whirlwind romance with Jack. Brock never could have imagined it would all lead to this.
Relationships: Brock Rumlow/Cal Kestis, Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow, Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow/Cal Kestis, Jack Rollins/Cal Kestis
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Are you Insane like Me?

**Author's Note:**

> Please, please, before you start reading check the tags. This story is dark and deals with some pretty triggering themes. 
> 
> Cal is also heavily inspired by Cameron’s character in Gotham, Jerome Valeska
> 
> I want to send out a huge thank you to Kalika_999 for helping me flesh out this idea and putting up with me. I love you!
> 
> Title inspired by Gasoline by Halsey

The supermarket was crowded, way more crowded than Jack Rollins was comfortable with. Jack was a tall man, coming in at more than six feet, and with his broad shoulders it made it hard to weave through the crowd to get to the pasta. His cart was full of the foods he and his brother, Cal, needed for the week. Cal never went shopping but it was times like these that Jack really wished he had managed to drag his brother along. 

Jack and his younger brother, of four years, were polar opposites. Where Jack was more like ice, cold with a hint of danger dancing across the surface; Cal was fire, bursting with energy, an uncontrollable heat that could easily consume everything in his path if not handled with care. 

Jack and Cal had been on their own since Cal was sixteen and Jack twenty when their father had died. _Good riddance_. They were all each other had in the world and neither would have it any other way. 

The sudden noise of his cart colliding with another snapped Jack out of his thoughts and his green eyes immediately went to the person he’d collided with. 

“Hey, man, watch where ya goin’!” The man snapped and Jack’s world seemed to come to a screeching halt. 

Jack took in the sight of the man - - the piece of art - - that stood in front of him. The man was on the shorter side but what he lacked in height he made up for in muscle. Even clothed in a smooth black leather jacket, grey t-shirt, and dark washed jeans, Jack could see the tight muscles, the powerful body. The man had dark hair, coiffed to perfection and a pair of brown eyes. He also sported a sharp jawline and high cheekbones. 

He was _perfect_. 

“Whatcha lookin’ at, man?” He snapped Jack out of his daze but Jack could see that his unabashed stare had shaken the other man from his anger. Most people weren’t used to being looked at in such a way.

“I’m sorry,” Jack stammered, clearing his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, one hand still on the cart. “I don’t normally come to the store when it’s so busy . . .”

The man lifted a brow and his lips pulled into a smirk. “So, you choose to come to the store the morning of Super Bowl when all the last minute shoppers come out?”

“Super Bowl? That’s today?” Jack blinked. He and Cal had never been much of sport fans. Sometimes they’d watch the fights or car racing but even that was rare.

Snorting out a laugh, the man shook his head, “take it you’re not much of a football fan?” Jack glanced into the man’s cart and saw bags of chips, some dip, and an eighteen pack of beer. Definitely food commonly associated with watching a game - - Jack could remember his father having similar food when he had friends over on Sundays to watch the game. He and Cal always hid away in his bedroom when their father and alcohol started to mix.

Shaking his head, Jack offered a shrug and small smile, “not really.” There was a moment of pause before he offered his hand to the other man, “I’m Jack Rollins.”

“Brock Rumlow,” the man shook Jack’s hand and Jack didn’t miss how Brock’s eyes moved up and down his form. Brock was checking him out. A shiver ran down Jack’s spine. He’d never felt like this before with anyone - - not anyone he _should_ , that is. “I’d invite you to my buddy, Clint’s, house to watch the game but don’t wantcha to be bored outta your mind. Though Clint does make a mean cheeseburger.”

“That’s really nice of you, but, I got to get home to my brother.” Jack answered on instinct, drawing a look of confusion from Brock.

“He little or somethin’?” Brock moved his cart to the side, closer to the shelves of pasta to let others pass by. 

“Oh, no, he’s twenty but . . . we’re close and it’s just the two of us, you know? On my days off we always hang out,” Jack shrugged and Brock seemed to accept that with a nod.

“That’s cool, I don’t got any brothers or sisters, must be real nice.”

“I couldn’t imagine,” Jack said truthfully. It was an honest statement. He couldn’t imagine his life without his little brother. Since he was four, it’d always been the two of them, especially once their mother had split shortly after Cal was born. Their father always blamed Cal for it, resulting in a deep hatred for his youngest son. Jack had protected and loved Cal all his life, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

A few moments of silence passed by and Jack shifted, his eyes glancing towards a screaming infant, the mother pushing the cart trying to shush the child gently. His eyes moved back to look at Brock and he offered him a small smile, “well, I guess I should be going? Have fun watching the game.”

Brock’s eyebrows shot up and he blinked in surprise, “really? After all that you’re not gonna ask fer my number or anythin’?”

Jack flushed brightly and he cleared his throat awkwardly, “I - - I didn’t want to offend . . .” He stammered. 

Rolling his eyes, Brock held out his hand, “gimme your phone.” Jack did without hesitation, fumbling it out of his pocket. Brock slipped his phone out as well and handed it to Jack to put his contact information in. They exchanged numbers before handing each other’s devices back to the rightful owner. “I’m gonna text you all the amazin’ super bowl food you’re missin’ out on.”

“I look forward to it,” Jack said, a smile crossing his features. He felt _giddy_. Brock was a beautiful man and he showed interest in _him_. 

Brock nodded, ducking his head a bit before giving Jack a small wave and pushing his cart down the aisle in the original direction he’d been heading. Jack stayed in his spot for a moment before he let out a small laugh and pushed his own cart in the opposite direction towards the check stands. 

The drive home was pretty uneventful and soon he was carrying in the bags of groceries into the home he and his brother shared. It was a little outside the city and was an older home, but Jack enjoyed the challenge of the renovations and being able to make the space completely their own. 

Cal stood at the front door, watching Jack as the older man straightened up after bending over to pick up the bags from the trunk. Bright red hair, that he’d inherited from their mother, was shorter on the sides and longer on top, enough so that red locks always seemed to be falling messily into his brother’s eyes, blew lightly in the cool breeze. It was a nicer day for it being the beginning of February but Cal wore a green sweater and a pair of dark jeans. Cal was tall like his brother but lanky and thin. The younger brother grinned brightly at Jack as he walked up the front step of the porch, following Jack inside their home.

“Took you longer than normal,” Cal commented as they walked through the home and into the large kitchen that opened into the living and dining rooms. Jack could see whatever Sunday morning cartoon Cal found amusing playing on the large flat screen TV. 

They’d come into some money after their father had died. Jack managed it well, enough so that he was able to buy this house and do all the updates to make them comfortable. Really, Jack didn’t even have to work at the architectural firm he did with how much money they had saved but the job gave him something to do with his time. 

“It’s Super Bowl today,” Jack commented, his eyes shifting over to look at his brother, gaze moving up and down before looking back at the bags of products he’d carried in. 

“So?” Cal tilted his head, peering into one of the bags as if looking for something.

“I got your damn mini cakes if that’s what you’re looking for,” Jack laughed, pulling out the box of the sweet treats only for them to be snatched from his grasp. “And, I guess everyone goes to the market the morning of the Super Bowl to get snacks?” His mind wandered back to Brock and his cart of snacking foods and he smiled as he continued to pull items from the bags. 

“Weird,” Cal murmured as he opened one of the mini cakes, freeing it from its plastic wrapper. He bit into one and groaned, the noise making Jack shift from foot to foot. Though, Jack knew by this point Cal was completely aware of his affect on Jack.

They didn’t have a _normal_ sibling relationship. They were closer than other brothers but they were all each other had. They were bonded in ways that normal people could and would never understand. 

Jack’s phone pinged with a new message and he pulled it out of pocket to check. Cal watched him curiously as he took another bite of his treat. Jack smiled when he saw it was a message from Brock. He’d sent a picture of himself holding a can of beer.

Brock: _Missing out. Still time to come over before the game._

Jack glanced at Cal, who watched him like a hawk before he quickly typed out a reply, _sorry, can’t today. Rain check maybe?_

“Who’re you texting?” Cal questioned with a soft frown, “you don’t text anyone.”

“Oh, just someone I met at the market. He seems pretty cool. His name is Brock,” Jack filled in, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

“Uh huh,” Cal murmured, watching Jack for a few more moments. He reached out with his thin fingers and grabbed Jack’s collar. Jack made a small noise of surprise as Cal tugged him close and their lips crashed together. 

“Gotta put away the groceries,” Jack muttered against Cal’s lips as soon as Cal let Jack come up for air. 

“They can wait. I _need_ you,” Cal breathed out, running his hands down Jack’s chest, his fingers playing with the buckle on Jack’s belt. 

**********

Jack laughed softly at the funny picture Brock had just sent him, typing out his reply before setting his phone down on the armrest of the couch. He turned his eyes back to the movie Cal had put on, some action movie that Jack hadn’t really bothered to pay attention to. All of his attention was on Brock, waiting for the next text.

The two of them had been texting all week and Jack found himself more and more interested in the man. Jack didn’t have friends, he had coworkers and Cal. He’d never really needed friends, not when he had his brother, but he found himself aching for more time with Brock. Brock was interesting and smart and funny. He worked at a car garage not far from the market that they’d met at. 

Cal watched as his brother looked down at his phone, laughed at something, before typing out a reply. He scowled, shifting on the couch anxiously. Weekends were _his_ days. Jack worked long hours during the week at the architectural firm but made up for it during the weekend when he devoted all his time to Cal. 

Cal didn’t work. He’d never held down a stable job for any longer than a few weeks. After he’d been fired from his last job at diner for throwing a large can of tomato sauce at his boss’ head, the man had it coming, Cal knew, especially since he’d demanded Cal go and apologize to a rude ass customer, they’d both agreed that Cal was best unemployed. That didn’t mean he didn’t work, he made sure the house was tidy and that Jack had food when he got home from work, too exhausted to make anything for himself. 

He often referred to himself as Jack’s little housewife. 

Rolling over, Cal straddled Jack’s lap and tilted his head, “who’re you texting?” He reached over before Jack could grab his phone when it vibrated, signaling a new message. He read the name that came up on the screen, “Brock, huh? You two sure are getting _friendly_.” 

Jack tried to grab his phone but Cal leaned back, pulling the phone out of his brother’s reach. 

“Cal, knock it off,” Jack said, exasperated, reaching for the device again, “give me my phone back.”

“The weekends are _my_ days,” Cal snapped, narrowing green eyes. “Not _Brock’s_ days.”

“I’m with you, aren’t I? Watching some dumb movie you put on,” Jack gestured to the tv and Cal froze. Jack sounded annoyed. Jack was never _annoyed_ with him. 

Cal tossed the device to the side, the phone hitting the wood floor hard. “Dammit, Cal!” Jack pushed Cal off his lap, his younger brother falling to the floor but Cal grabbed Jack’s hand and tugged him hard enough to make the older man lose his balance and tumble to the floor.

Acting quickly, Cal once more straddled Jack’s waist, pinning the larger man’s hands above his head. “I’m not _sharing_ you. You’re mine and I’m yours and that’s all that we need.”

Jack sighed, looking up at his younger brother. “I love you, Cal. You know I do and I always will. But . . . Brock, he’s fascinating. I want to get to know him better. I’m,” Jack took and released a breath, “we’re meeting up tomorrow.”

Cal’s body stiffened and his grip tightened on Jack’s wrists, “like a _date_?”

“You could call it that,” Jack admitted, meeting Cal’s eyes, “I promise to only be gone a few hours. Then you can have me all to yourself.”

“But, it’s always been _us_ , Jack. You and me. Why are you bringing someone else into it?” Cal fell to the side, back against the couch as he freed his older brother. Another vibration against the wood signaled a new text message and Cal cursed under his breath. He’d really hoped he’d broken that damn thing. 

Jack got up, kneeling before Cal as he dropped a kiss to the top of Cal’s head. He cupped one of his brother’s cheeks, thumb caressing over freckled skin. “I love you. And, I always will. It’ll always be me and you, Cal. I promise. You’ll always be my number one.”

Cal hated how he felt like that was all just a lie to make him feel better. _It didn’t_.

**********

Opening the front door slowly, carefully, as to make the least amount of noise possible, Jack peered inside. The bottom level of the house was still calm and quiet. It was early, just past seven in the morning and he’d hoped that Cal might still be asleep. Jack had spent the night at Brock’s for the first time since they’d started dating a few months ago and Jack knew that Cal would have issues with it. _Major issues_. If Jack could sneak inside before Cal woke up he might be able to convince his brother that he hadn't spent the night, that he’d just gotten in late after he’d gone to bed. 

Jack turned and eased the door closed, locking the door with a soft _click_. He let out a slow breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding before turning to head into the kitchen. Brock had wanted Jack to stick around for breakfast but Jack knew he had to get home to Cal. So he’d left his boyfriend - - Jack smiled to himself at the title - - resting peacefully in his bed. 

Jack hadn’t wanted to leave him. 

Opening the fridge, Jack peered inside to see what he could make for breakfast. He was hoping that a homemade breakfast would help quell whatever anger Cal might have. He grabbed the carton of eggs and some milk. Jack went into the pantry to take out a few other items to set next to the milk and eggs. He’d make pancakes, eggs, and bacon for breakfast, it was one of Cal’s favorite meals. 

As he whisked together the ingredients to make the pancake batter, Jack thought about the night before with Brock. They’d gone out to a movie and then grabbed dinner at some local pizza place. Afterwards, they walked through the park, holding hands, talking before they headed back to Brock’s place and Brock had looked so sheepish when he invited Jack inside. Jack wanted to make Brock blush all the time. Once inside, Brock had poured them both a glass of whiskey and they sat on Brock’s new couch - - something he was quite proud of - - and talked some more. It had been so natural to share things with Brock and Brock seemed to have an easy time sharing with him, too. 

Two tall glasses of whiskey in, Brock started to get more _touchy_ and with the same amount of alcohol in his system, Jack didn’t pull back. He didn’t even think of Cal as Brock straddled his lap in the same way Cal would or when Brock’s lips met his. Brock’s kiss was different from Cal’s, Brock’s was gentle and timid but with a hint of desperation whereas Cal’s was full of intense passion. 

The kissing had quickly moved onto something more intimate and they’d stumbled their way into Brock’s bedroom. Jack had showered Brock’s body with kisses and touches. The sex had been unlike anything Jack had before. He had never wanted the moment to end. He wanted to stay with Brock forever. 

The evening had been so perfect. So _normal_. It made him realize how lacking he was of normalcy in his life. Jack’s childhood had been anything but normal and his adult life with Cal hadn’t been much better.

“You stayed out all night,” Cal’s voice snapped Jack out of his daze and Jack’s eyes quickly found his brother standing in the entryway of the kitchen. Cal looked awful, red hair disheveled, grey sweats and his black t-shirt rumpled, and dark circles stood out against pale skin under green eyes. It was obvious Cal hadn’t slept last night, waiting on his brother to come home.

Guilt quickly took over any happy emotion Jack had been feeling. He should’ve at least called Cal to let him know where he was. 

“Uh . . . yeah,” Jack shot Cal an apologetic glance before looking down at his batter. It was fully whisked and now Jack just had to let it set for a few minutes. “I’m sorry. I accidentally fell asleep . . .”

“ _Accidentally fell asleep_?” Cal repeated, completely unimpressed with the lie. It was a bad lie, after all. “Was that before or after you fucked him?”

“Cal . . .” Jack turned to his often volatile brother, he could see the anger in Cal’s eyes, making him shift uncomfortably. 

Cal pushed off from the archway, taking one slow step at a time before he finally stopped, right in front of Jack. He had to tilt his head slightly back to meet Jack’s eyes this close. “No, I want to know. You had your cute little date at the movies, went to grab pizza, held hands as you walked through the park. He let you inside . . .” Cal paused, his voice going low - - dangerous, “ _did you fuck him_?”

“Yes,” Jack answered, jaw clenching as he admitted it to Cal. 

Cal’s eyes flashed with fury and his arm swept out, knocking down the bowl of batter, the glass shattering and the batter splattering all over the floor, and the carton of eggs, those joining the absolute mess on the floor. “What am I to you, Jack?” Cal snapped as Jack stood, stoic and unfazed by Cal’s display of aggression. “Your housewife whore on the side? I cook for you, I clean for you. I’ve been there for you _no matter what_! And, I’m just supposed to be _okay_ with you fucking someone else?”

Letting out a deep breath, Jack reached up to cup Cal’s face but his little brother smacked his hands away. “Cal, what we have, no one else has. We’re two parts of a whole.” Jack tried to explain it the best way he knew how. He had to get Cal to understand. “But, the moment I met Brock I knew . . . I knew he was meant to be with me. There’s something about him - -“

Shaking his head, Cal cut him off, “is it because you can hold his hand in public? Kiss him in public? Tell everyone - - all your coworkers about your pretty little boyfriend?”

“You followed us,” Jack finally realized, frowning at Cal. 

Barking out a laugh, Cal tossed his arms in the air before letting them come slapping down to his sides. “Yes, I _followed_ you. Had to see for myself what this Brock was all about, why you’re so . . . obsessed with him.” Jack’s hands clenched by his sides as he fought to keep his composure. “And, I have to say. He’s really pretty, got a nice tight ass. I know how much you like those.”

“What your tongue,” Jack growled, bringing a wicked grin to Cal’s face.

“Or, _what_?” Cal tilted his head to the side, “what are you going to do? You don’t like me talking about your little _whore_?”

Jack’s hand shot out before he could fully realize what he was doing. He gripped Cal’s throat and pushed, bending his brother back over the counter. “Don’t you dare call him that.”

Cal chuckled, the noise coming out more of a wheeze as Jack applied pressure to his throat. “That’s . . . What he is . . . isn’t he?” Cal’s face started to turn red but he didn’t even struggle to get out of Jack’s hold. 

Tightening his grip just slightly, Cal involuntarily made a soft choking noise, Jack said, “do not talk about him like that. _Ever_. Do you understand me?”

“Crystal,” Cal choked out and Jack released his brother who coughed with the sudden intake of air. Cal straightened slowly, rubbing his reddened throat. Cal swallowed thickly before turning to walk out of the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Jack asked, watching his brother leave.

“Getting dressed and then going out,” Cal replied, voice still rough. “I don’t feel like playing your housewife today. Get yourself a new one.” Cal paused at the archway, turning to glance at Jack over his shoulder, “oh, yeah, you already _have_.”

**********

Brock leaned into Jack’s side, the two of them watched the movie playing on the screen. Brock felt the comforting weight of Jack’s arm over his shoulders and he turned his head to press a kiss to Jack’s chin, right over the scar that marred his chin. 

Jack hummed, a soft smile playing across his lips as he looked down at the man in his arms. He dropped a kiss to Brock’s lips, his free hand moving up so he could caress his thumb down Brock’s sharp jawline. Brock shifted from his position on the couch so that he could straddle Jack’s lap. Jack dropped both his hands down to Brock’s hips, squeezing them lightly.

Looking down at Jack, Brock grinned, “tonight’s been nice. Thank ya fer coming over.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” Jack replied softly, letting his head fall back against the couch. 

Brock leaned back down to start kissing Jack again, tongue swiping across Jack’s bottom lip. Jack allowed Brock entry while his other hand moved from Brock’s hip to squeeze his boyfriend’s firm ass. 

They both stiffened when they heard footsteps come up to Brock’s door, followed by a dull _thump_. Jack looked towards the direction of the noise, “were you expecting anyone?” He asked softly.

Brock shook his head, “no?” He slipped off Jack’s lap, Jack following Brock’s lead and getting to his feet as well. 

Suddenly, the sound of shattering glass had both men running to the door. “What the fuck?” Brock snapped but Jack grabbed Brock’s arm to stop him.

Jack opened the front door, keeping Brock behind him and he frowned when he saw the front windshield of Brock’s car shattered. 

“Holy shit, what the _fuck_?” Brock murmured and Jack looked down and his heart dropped. “That’s a fucking _cat_!” 

_A dead one_ , Jack thought to himself, looking down at the poor creature and his hands clenched into fists. 

“Who the fuck kills a cat - - why . . . why would they leave it _here_?” Brock shook his head, backing up a step, hand over his mouth.

Jack turned around to face Brock and he put his hands on Brock’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of the cat . . . why don’t you go get a bath started?”

“Shouldn’t we call the cops or soemthin’?” Brock’s eyes shifted from the cat to his vandalized car. “And my car?”

Jack shook his head, “cops won’t be able to do anything. It’s not like you have a camera or anything. Go, draw yourself a bath. I’ll take care of everything. I’ll get someone out here tomorrow to fix your windshield. It’s probably just some dumb kid playing a messed up prank.”

Brock didn’t look convinced, his eyes moving down to stare at the dead animal left at his door. Finally, though, he nodded and said, “yeah, okay. Thanks . . .”

Jack nodded, dropping a quick kiss to Brock’s lips before the other man turned to head upstairs for his bath. Jack looked down at the dead animal and let out a long suffering sigh. 

_Oh, Cal._

**********

That night after he’d taken care of the cat and promised Brock he’d be back in the morning to pay for someone to come out and fix his windshield, Jack hurried home. He hated leaving Brock, he knew that his boyfriend had wanted him to stay the night and Jack couldn’t blame him. He knew for a normal person, that seeing such a scene would be quite a scare. But, Jack needed to talk to Cal. 

Cal couldn’t go around threatening Brock. Jack wouldn’t have that. 

He parked his car into the driveway and got out, slamming the door before hurrying up the steps to the front porch. Jack entered the home, storming into the living room where he could hear the TV playing. Cal looked up and smiled at his brother, despite the stormy look in Jack’s eyes.

“Hey - -“ Cal started but let out a little squeak of surprise as Jack wrapped his fingers into Cal’s shirt, dragging him off the couch. He slammed Cal up against the wall hard, Cal letting out a chuckle as his back collided with the surface. “Okay, okay, I know you’re upset . . .”

“You think this is _funny_?” Jack snapped, his face inches from Cal’s. He’d never been this angry with his brother before. 

“Well, anything can be funny . . . you just have to look at it from a different perspective,” Cal grinned crookedly. 

Jack shook his head, keeping Cal pinned to the wall. “This isn’t some joke, Cal. This is my life.”

Cal’s smile faded off his face as soon as Jack finished and the look was replaced with something thunderous. “Your _life_? I used to be your life, Jack! We used to do everything together. It was us against the world! Now that you have another pretty face with a hole to stick it in, I’m what? I’m _trash_?”

Letting go of Cal, who stumbled a bit as his full weight was suddenly put on his feet, Jack closed his eyes and took a few breaths to try and calm down. “What we had wasn’t healthy, Cal. It’s not . . . right for our worlds to only revolve around each other. I still love you but . . .”

“You love him, too,” Cal finished for his brother and the look on his face nearly killed Jack right there. He hated feeling like he was being pulled in two directions. Realistically, Jack knew he would have to choose eventually between Cal and Brock . . . and it shocked him that Cal wasn’t the obvious choice. 

Running a hand through his hair, Jack blew out a rough breath, “it’s complicated, Cal. I wish it wasn’t.”

“Enough of the passive bullshit,” Cal snapped, this time getting into Jack’s face with two long strides. “You either love me or you love him more. This isn’t some fairytale where you can have everything you want, Jack. _Wake up_.” 

“Why can’t I have both of you? Why can’t I spend time with both of you?” Jack pleaded with Cal, taking Cal’s hands into his own and holding them as he met his brother’s eyes. “Please, Cal. Don’t make me choose? I want both of you in my life. We can make it work.”

Scoffing, Cal shook his head and brushed past Jack, bumping his brother’s shoulder hard on the way. “Sorry, big bro. No can do. I don’t share.” He started walking backwards, towards the stairs that lead up to the bedrooms, “looks like you got a decision to make. I won’t wait forever. _Tick tock_ , Jack.”

Jack stood there for several moments in the living room. He could hear Cal moving around upstairs. Things were getting out of control, quickly. Cal was becoming more and more unstable by the day and Jack knew it was only a matter of time before something happened. 

If Cal lost control and hurt someone - - someone without Jack’s careful planning, it could end him up in prison. It could put both of them in prison. He knew he had to get started on something that he’d been putting off. He’d prayed he’d never have to use the plans to turn the basement into a cell - - a comfortable cell with a bed and kitchen and all the amenities of home - - except with a locking door mechanism and a chain that would keep the occupant secure. 

He’d drawn up the plans over a year ago, when he’d noticed Cal beginning to lose control. 

Sighing, Jack ran his hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck. Finally, he nodded to himself, settling his resolve, before grabbing the keys to his car and leaving the home. 

Jack needed to get supplies. 

**********

“You didn’t have to pay fer my windshield,” Brock said the next day after Jack had come over. Jack had called someone to come to the house and replace the shattered windshield, paying the man himself, despite Brock insisting he could pay.

Jack glanced over at his boyfriend, guilt flashing in his green eyes. Brock had noticed that Jack had been acting off since the night before when they’d found the cat and Brock’s car vandalized. Brock had been shaken by the whole thing but it was the guilt that Jack carried that perplexed Brock. It wasn’t like Jack had done it. 

“I wanted to,” Jack said, watching Brock for a few moments, “it’s the least I could do.”

Brock’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Why? It ain’t like you killed that cat or smashed my car?”

There was a moment of silence between the two of them and when Jack didn’t offer anything more, Brock gave him a look. Sighing, Jack ran a hand through his hair and had trouble meeting Brock’s eyes, “because . . . because I know who did.”

Blinking, Brock shook his head, “you know who did?” He repeated. “Who? A jealous ex or something?”

Jack flushed, an uncommon sight, “not exactly? It . . . It was my brother.”

“Cal?” Brock’s mouth dropped open slightly. 

Nodding, Jack sat down on the couch, putting his head in his hands. “Cal’s . . . he’s _sick_. I mean . . . we both are but . . . he’s more than I am. He can’t control it.”

“Control what?” Brock swallowed a lump in his throat, an uneasy feeling rushing over his body. 

A conflicted look crossed Jack’s expression, fighting between fleeing from Brock’s home or sharing with him something he’d never told anyone. Could he really risk sharing his and Cal’s secret with Brock? Would Brock run to the police after Jack told him? Jack lifted his head, meeting Brock’s eyes. 

“Our father, he was a piece of shit,” Jack started, Brock sitting down in the armchair across from the couch as he got comfortable. He had a feeling this wouldn’t be a short story. “He blamed Cal for our mother leaving after he was born - - when it was all because of his tendency to smack around those weaker than him.” Jack’s hands clenched into fists, Brock noticing a slight tremble to them. “He hated Cal. He would hit him, call him names, anything he could get away with other than straight out murder. I tried to stop or deflect what I could.”

“Didn’t anyone notice?” Brock asked, though he knew the answer to that one. Sure, people noticed, but they never wanted to get involved. His own father had gotten away with beating Brock black and blue all his childhood. 

“We were wealthy. Our father carried a power over everything. So, yeah, people noticed but no one cared. No one wanted to make an enemy of him.” Jack said softly, blowing out a shaky breath. “On Cal’s sixteenth birthday, he got really drunk. I had been out . . . I had wanted Cal to have a birthday cake because our dad hadn’t done anything for him . . . so I wanted him to have something special. But, when I came home I heard Cal crying out. I heard our father _hitting_ him. Again and again and again.” Jack stopped and Brock ached to reach out and comfort him. “I saw that he’d backed Cal into a corner and I - - I thought he was finally going to do it. He was going to kill my little brother.”

A moment passed between them and that uneasy feeling intensified. Brock knew where this was going.

“So, I grabbed the first thing I could - - it was some small statue that my father had gotten from a business trip overseas. And, I hit him,” Jack admitted and the breath rushed out of Brock’s lungs. “I hit him again and again. Like he’d done to Cal. Like he’d done to both of us all our lives. I hit him until he wasn’t breathing anymore and I kept hitting him.” Jack swallowed, unable to meet Brock’s eyes, “they ruled it self defense and I wasn’t charged. They could see what he’d done to Cal and it didn’t take long for them to see the evidence of previous abuse on both of us.”

“So, you killed your piece o’ shit dad . . . What’s that gotta do with Cal dumping a dead cat on at my door?” Brock asked, trying not to let the new information overwhelm him. Sure, there had been many times he’d wanted to kill his dad but he’d just packed his shit and gotten out as soon as he could instead. 

Jack shifted on the couch, clearly uncomfortable, “something about that night - - it woke something up inside both of us. Something dark. I’m able to control it . . For the most part but Cal?” Jack shook his head, letting out a shaky breath, “there’s a bloodlust in him. No matter what we do . . . he always wants more. It’s always been the two of us and - - and now you’re a part of the picture and he doesn’t like that.”

“What . . . what do you mean _for the most part_?” Brock questioned, he felt like they were approaching a point of no return. These next few moments would change everything but Brock wanted to know - - Brock wanted to understand.

Jack rubbed his palms together anxiously, jaw clenching. This was it. He had a choice of shutting down or opening up to Brock, risking everything. Risking his and his brother’s freedom. He wanted to be honest with Brock. He wanted Brock to love him - - love all of him. “We . . . We kill people.”

“You kill people?” Brock paled, eyes widening.

Jack rushed to add, “only bad people. Rapist, child abusers, other murderers. I - - I don’t want others to suffer like Cal and I suffered for so long. The people we kill don’t deserve to walk this earth, Brock. They’re people that hurt others.”

Brock knew he should’ve been disgusted. He should’ve told Jack to get out, call the police, wash his hands of the two insane brothers that killed people. However, he didn’t. He didn’t feel disgust or even anger. Perhaps it was his own upbringing, dealing with a man that emotionally and physically abused him everyday for years on end. Men like his father, like Jack’s father, didn’t deserve to be alive. 

The thought scared Brock more than his boyfriend admitting he was a killer. The thought that Brock agreed with it.

Shifting nervously, Jack’s eyes darted around the room before meeting Brock’s again. “Uh . . . say something? Please?” He rubbed his hands up and down his thighs. The nervous energy rolling off of him was palpable.

“It’s . . . it’s a lot to take in,” Brock admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean . . . as long as the people are bad.”

Blinking in shock, Jack nodded his head quickly. Brock hadn’t gotten angry or disgusted or demanded he leave right away. “Yes, they’re all bad people, Brock, I promise. I always make sure to do my research beforehand.”

“And, your brother? He just hurts bad people?” Brock asked softly and he watched as Jack deflated a bit.

“Cal listens to what I say, mostly. These past few months, especially since I started seeing you, he’s been erratic and upset. He gets . . . jealous.” Jack ran a hand down his face, looking exhausted. “He isn’t used to me sharing my free time with someone else other than him.”

Brock frowned softly. He’s never had any brothers or sisters so didn’t completely understand the relationship between siblings but something about the way Jack described his and Cal’s relationship set Brock on edge. He got up from his chair and moved in closer to Jack, wedging himself between Jack’s legs. Jack widened them in surprise, brows going up when Brock leaned up to kiss him.

“Well,” Brock breathed out after pulling away slightly, “he better get used’ta sharin’ ya because I ain’t planning on lettin’ ya go anytime soon.”

**********

Jack turned onto Brock’s street with a worried frown, he’d seen the large cloud of thick black smoke as he got closer and closer to his boyfriend’s home. Once he started on Brock’s street, Jack’s heart leapt into his throat. 

It was _Brock’s_ house that was on fire. Fire trucks lined the street as firefighters fought desperately to control and put out the violent blaze. Jack could feel his heart beating rapidly and blood rushing through his ears. He knew immediately this had something to do with Cal. His brother hadn’t come home the night before and when Jack had attempted to call him it went straight to voicemail.

Jack pulled his car to the curb, his eyes latched onto the complete destruction of his boyfriend’s home. He just prayed that Brock wasn’t inside. He pulled his phone from his pocket and called his brother. It was a small relief when the phone actually rang and didn’t go to voicemail right away.

Cal answered after the third ring, “oh, hey, big bro.”

“What the fuck did you do, Cal?” Jack hissed, his chest tightened with anger and fear. Had Cal killed Brock?

“ _Good morning_ to you too, brother dear,” Cal laughed, the sound making Jack’s blood boil. 

“Where’s Brock, Cal?” Jack swallowed the lump in his throat. His eyes stared at the house, he could see the flames licking out of the windows. 

Cal giggled and Jack could hear his brother moving about, footsteps echoing in what sounded like an empty space. “Oh, me and Brock are planning on having some fun bro time. He’s not a lot of fun right now, Jack. Just sleeping the day away.”

A breath of relief rushed from Jack’s lungs. Cal hadn’t killed Brock - - at least not yet. “Cal, please, whatever is going on, it has nothing to do with him. It’s just between us two. Let him go.”

“ _Nothing to do with him_?” Cal exclaimed, a hysterical tone to his voice. “Oh, my dear brother, it has everything to do with him!” 

“Cal, please,” Jack begged, “at . . . at least tell me where you are?” He hated the panic he heard in his own voice but he couldn’t get the image of Cal hurting Brock - - torturing him, out of his mind. He should have never brought Brock into his life. 

“I’m where it all started, Jack,” Jack could hear the wicked grin that spread across Cal’s face. “You know the house is still vacant? Guess no one wants to buy a house where a father beat the shit out of his sons everyday and where one of the sons bashed his head in until it was a bloody pulp. _Go figure_.”

“Just . . . Just stay there, okay?” Jack started his car, “please, Cal? I’m heading there now. Just . . . just don’t hurt him.”

“Oh goody, I think sleeping beauty is finally waking up,” Cal laughed into the phone and Jack’s heart sank. “Gotta go, Jack. Toodles.”

The line went dead and Jack cursed, tossing the device onto the passenger seat. He turned around and started driving towards the house he and his brother had grown up in. A place of nightmares for them both. He just hoped he could get there in time to stop his brother from hurting Brock. 

**********

Brock awoke with a soft groan, blinking harshly as his senses came back to him too fast for his pounding head to manage. He tried to lift his arm to rub at his eyes, put some pressure on them to relieve the headache if only for a brief moment. It was then that he realized he couldn’t lift his arm. He looked down at his arms and he saw that they were strapped to a chair and when he tried to move his legs he found they were in the same predicament.

“Oh good!” A voice, far too cheery called out to Brock and Brock slowly lifted his head with a wince. He saw a tall, slender man - - no older than twenty - - standing a few feet from him. The man had bright red hair and green eyes that held a unhinged look in them. Brock’s eyes latched onto the blood smeared across the bridge of the man’s nose and cheek and the sudden memory of smashing his face against the bastard’s came back to him. His captor grabbed a chair and dragged it across creaky floorboards of whatever dilapidated house he was being kept in. 

The man sat in the chair backwards, propping his elbow up on the back of the chair and resting his cheek against his hand. “You really _are_ pretty, aren’t you?”

Brock frowned, meeting his eyes, “who’re you?” He rasped, his mouth dry. How long had he been out for?

Perking up a bit, the redhead put a hand to his chest as he gasped, “oh, how rude of me! I’m Cal. I believe you know my older brother.”

 _This_ was Cal? The man so obsessed with his brother that he perceived Brock as a threat. “You’re Cal?” Brock asked, shifting in the chair, tugging against the bindings.

“Oh, you aren’t getting out of those, dollface,” Cal gestured to the multiple layers of duct tape that wrapped around Brock’s limbs. “This isn’t my first rodeo, I’m afraid.” Cal smiled and a chill went down Brock’s spine. The smile held absolutely no light behind it. Cal tilted his head slightly, watching Brock, making the older man squirm uncomfortably under the stare.

“What do you want? I’ve never met ya before. Couldn’t have done nothin’ to ya, man,” Brock swallowed, trying to reason with Cal but by the slow smile that returned to his face Brock knew he must have said the wrong thing. 

“Oh,” Cal drawled, smoothly getting up from his chair. Suddenly, he kicked the chair back hard, the crash it made as it tumbled to the floor caused Brock to jump, heart rate picking up. “But, you have done something to me, gorgeous.” Cal closed the gap between them, that empty smile staying on his face. “You,” Cal sank down on Brock’s lap, making the older man attempt to get away but there was nothing he could do with the bindings holding him securely in place. “Took _everything_ from me!”

“I haven’t taken a damn thing from ya, ya crazy fuck!” Brock snapped, fear running through his entire body, making his eyes go wide. _He might actually die here._

Cal laughed, as if he found this whole thing as amusing as Sunday morning cartoons. “You see, gorgeous, my brother is everything to me.” He got off Brock’s lap, walking over to a small table off to the side that Brock hadn’t noticed yet but when he saw what laid on the table, Brock started to panic, yanking at his bindings with more vigor. 

“Look, I haven’t done nothin’ to your brother! He - - he loves you! He talks ‘bout ya all the time!” Brock insisted and he hated the fear in his voice, the slight tremble to it. It showed weakness and the last thing he wanted was to give this creep any pleasure of scaring him. But, Brock couldn’t help it. He was terrified. He’d never thought he’d be held captive by some murdering psychopath. 

Cal hummed a happy tune as narrow fingers trace over the different items on the table: a hatchet, a hunting knife, a hammer, and a scalpel. He listened as Brock pleaded for his life, it was an odd thing all his victims did, which Cal always found so strange, though normally Jack was with him to listen to the fruitless pleas. Did people really think they’d let them go after going through all the trouble of stalking them, figuring out their every move, kidnapping them?

Grabbing the scalpel off the table, Cal turned back to his victim, twirling the tool between his fingers, the metal glinting in the light. Brock’s eyes, a brown that reminded Cal of chocolate and caramel, widened as they latched onto the scalpel. He watched as the younger man approached at a taunting pace. 

“Ya - - ya only kill bad guys, right?” Brock blurted out and that gave Cal pause, the younger man tilting his head curiously. Brock continued, words tumbling fast out of his mouth. “I ain’t a bad guy! I ain’t no rapist or murderer or nothin’ like that! Jack told me whatcha both do! You only kill bad guys. I’m jus’ a mechanic, man. I go to work, maybe stop by the bar for a beer afterwards, an’ go home. I haven’t - - I haven’t hurt nobody before.”

Cal didn’t say anything for several long, torturous seconds and the only sound that Brock heard was his own labored breathing. Finally, Cal started to cackle, full on fucking cackle and Brock’s heart sank.

“Oh,” Cal grinned, the blood on his face a bright contrast to pale skin, “he has fallen for you, hasn’t he? Even told you about the little game that he and I play.” He stopped, standing right in front of Brock, still clutching the scalpel in one hand. “The killing bad guys is more Jack’s rule, I’m afraid. I don’t care who I kill. Even good guys have bad secrets.” Cal brought the blade down to Brock’s cheek, the cold metal making Brock stiffen and stare into Cal’s eyes. There was nothing there, those green eyes completely void of emotion. “Jack has always liked a pretty face,” Cal mused, “it’ll be a shame I have to mess it up. Carve slowly into your beautiful tanned skin, watch your blood run. Jack will be mad, of course. But, he’ll get over it eventually and then things will go back to normal.”

Brock swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, as he looked up at Cal. He was going to die and from the sounds of it Cal wasn’t going to do it quickly either. “I never meant to take your brother brother away from ya, Cal. I mean it. And he does talk ‘bout you all the time when we’re together.”

“Yes, but that time with you should be time with me,” Cal replied and pressed the blade of the scalpel harder into Brock’s skin, the sting making Brock wince and let out a sharp hiss. 

“Cal!” The blade suddenly lifted once Jack’s voice echoed through the space of the abandoned building they were in. Brock’s eyes snapped to the doorway as Cal whirled around. Jack stood there, dark hair disheveled but his face was the picture of calm. Brock’s heart started to pound harder in his chest. 

“Brother, dear,” Cal grinned, his tone happy as if he didn’t have Jack’s boyfriend tied up in a chair behind him. “Nice of you to make it.”

“You burned down his house,” Jack said evenly, taking slow, calculated steps towards his brother and boyfriend. Jack’s eyes never left Cal’s though. Brock stiffened. The fucker had burned his house down? “That’s rash, Cal. Arson’s not really in our territory. You’re not thinking clearly.”

Cal laughed, the scalpel twirled between deft fingers once more. “I had to do something to get your attention! All you care about is him!” Cal flung out an arm to point accusingly at Brock. “You were _mine_ first!”

“I know,” Jack nodded, agreeing easily, “and, it was wrong of me to neglect you, Cal. You’re my special brother and no one could ever replace you, you hear? No one.” Jack sounded completely earnest as he took another step and Cal backed up one, leg almost bumping into Brock’s. 

“You abandoned me! You promised you’d never leave me and you abandon me for - - for some pretty face!” Cal continued, shaking his head, red hair falling into his face. 

“I haven’t left you, Cal. I’m right here, aren’t I? I’m right with you. You know that’d never change. I’d never leave you,” Jack vowed and Cal hesitated a moment, something flashing in those green eyes that only Jack could catch, because only Jack understood Cal. 

A moment was all Jack needed before he pounced, much faster than a man his size should be able to move. Cal saw the movement a second too late but he still attempted to protect himself, however his older brother gained the upper hand quickly. Jack twisted Cal’s arm until he was forced to drop the weapon and then snaked his arm around Cal’s throat, applying pressure.

Cal scrambled, fingernails digging deep enough to draw blood on Jack’s forearm but the older man didn’t let go. Brock watched with wide eyes as Cal bucked wildly in Jack’s hold, kicking and clawing like a wild animal trapped in a corner with no hope of getting loose. The scramble went on for almost a minute and a half before Cal started to lose consciousness, his limbs becoming uncoordinated and eventually limp as his eyes rolled back and his body slumped in Jack’s hold.

“I’m sorry,” Jack whispered, dropping a kiss to the top of Cal’s head, barely loud enough for Brock to hear it. Jack followed Cal to the floor, a gentleness about his every move as he quickly bound Cal’s arms behind his back and his ankles together. Jack stroked his fingers through bright red hair before getting up and turning to Brock.

“Is - - is he dead?” Brock asked, watching as Jack pulled out a knife from his pocket to cut through the layers of duct tape binding him to the chair. 

“No,” Jack answered, his eyes taking in Brock’s condition, seeming satisfied that Cal hadn’t had a chance to majorly hurt his boyfriend. “Just unconscious.” Jack cupped the back of Brock’s head, meeting Brock’s eyes, “are you okay?”

Brock swallowed thickly but nodded, “yeah, other than a hit to the head he didn’t hurt me.” He rubbed his aching wrists, getting blood flow back into his hands. As Jack released his legs, Brock looked down at the unconscious form of Cal. It was such a different sight than the maniac that had just been threatening him with a scalpel - - unconscious, Cal looked young . . . sweet. 

“What are you gonna do with him?” Brock asked, accepting Jack’s hand when the man offered it to aid him in getting to his feet. 

Jack sighed, running a hand through his dark hair and down his face. “I’ve been planning for this for some time. I knew he was becoming . . . Unstable.” Jack gathered his brother into his arms and stood up, carrying Cal’s dead weight as if it were nothing. “I’m sorry you got all mixed up into this.”

Brock followed as Jack carried his brother out his car, watching as Jack treated Cal as if he were the most precious cargo in the world as he laid him out across the backseat. Jack shut the door and turned back to Brock. There was a moment of uncertain silence between the pair before Jack finally broke it. 

“If you want to leave, I totally understand. You didn’t sign up for any of this.”

Brock frowned softly, thinking it all over. Any sane person would run for the hills and not look back. Jack’s brother had literally just kidnapped him - - planning on torturing and murdering him just for being with Jack. However, the thought of leaving Jack hurt Brock in ways he couldn’t quite understand. 

Slowly, Brock said, “well, he kinda burned down my house. Don’t got no where to go.”

Jack watched Brock, his face half masked in the shadows of the night. Jack took a step closer to Brock, cupping his boyfriend’s cheek. He offered Brock a tentative smile, “you can stay with me? If you want?”

Brock nodded before he could change his mind, “yeah, yeah . . . I’d like that.”


	2. Been in Pain like Me?

Leaning back against the counter, Brock took a long sip of his coffee, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh of bliss. He’d gotten just the right coffee and creamer ratio. He opened his eyes and looked around at the old farmhouse kitchen. The appliances and decor were dated but somehow it all just fit with Jack. Jack was an old soul, and Brock loved him for it. 

Brock took another sip from his coffee and glanced over when he heard the door from the basement open. He watched as Jack came up, shutting the door behind him. Brock averted his eyes, tapping his fingers against the side of the mug. 

Jack walked up to his boyfriend, dropping a kiss against his lips and offering him a small smile. “I gotta get to work. You gonna be okay?”

Rolling his eyes, Brock hummed and replied, “ya know, I think today, I’m gonna say nah, I won’t be okay.” Jack paused and Brock huffed out a laugh, kissing his cheek. “I’ll be fine, Jack. You’ve asked me every morning you leave for the last three months. I’m fine. He’s fine. You got him secured down there. Nothing’s gonna happen.”

“Alright,” Jack nodded, giving Brock another small smile. “I’ll be home tonight. I love you.”

“Love ya too,” Brock answered and he waited until he could hear Jack’s car pulling from the driveway. He blew out a breath and finished his coffee leisurely. Since Cal had taken him and he’d moved in with Jack he hadn’t worked. Jack made more than enough to support them and had offered to allow Brock to take some time off work. Brock knew he’d go back eventually but for right now he was enjoying his time off. 

Brock took his shower and got dressed, styling his hair despite having no plans of going anywhere. He straightened up the house, made his and Jack’s bed, and even started a load of laundry. By the time he was finished, waiting on his clothes in the dryer, it was afternoon and he frowned softly, knowing he had a few hours yet before Jack got home. He glanced at the closed door of the basement and shook his head.

He couldn’t believe he was actually thinking about it. Brock’s feet seemed to be working on autopilot as he moved towards the basement door and suddenly he was walking down the stairs. The room at the bottom was lit with artificial light and there was a soft classical tune playing. 

Stopping at the last step, Brock stood frozen, his eyes locked on the figure on the bed. Cal looked paler and thinner than he had a few months ago and his red hair was a bit longer too. He almost looked normal, listening to the classical tune playing from a record player in the corner while reading a book. He was dressed in a pair of blue and white striped pajamas and a luxurious looking green robe. However, Brock’s eyes latched onto a thick padded cuff surrounding one of Cal’s thin ankles, secured with a lock, and attached to a sturdy iron chain that was bolted to the wall near the bed. 

Brock didn’t say anything, he knew he was safe on the stairs. Jack had told him that the chain keeping Cal locked up was long enough to give the man roam of the basement, bathroom, and small kitchenette but stopped a few feet shy of the last step. 

Did Brock say anything? What was there to say? This had been the man that had tried to kill him a few months back. The man who was so obsessed with Jack that he’d perceived Brock as a threat to their relationship. 

The decision was taken from Brock when Cal’s voice rang out in a cool, even tone. “Have you ever heard the phrase curiosity killed the cat?”

Brock’s eyes snapped to look at Cal’s face, the younger man now watching him with that same empty smile stretching across red lips. “I know you can’t hurt me from here.”

Cal laughed, swinging his long legs over the edge of the bed, the chain rattling as some of it slipped off the bed and pooled near Cal’s feet. “And, who says I want to hurt you, gorgeous?”

Brock swallowed, eyes narrowing slightly, “you kidnapped me, set my house on fire, held a scalpel to my face.”

Tilting his head slightly to the side, smiling crookedly as if Brock said something amusing, Cal said, “and, yet, you’re still alive, aren’t you? Had I wanted you dead, trust me, you’d be dead. All I wanted was Jack back.”

“And, now you have him?” Brock shot right back, jaw clenching. There was something about Cal, a dangerous beauty that Brock knew was trying to play him.

Shrugging his thin shoulders, Cal stood up slowly and it was then that Brock noticed the scar across the bridge of Cal’s nose and he knew that he’d done it to him. _Good_. “More or less,” Cal replied simply, taking a step closer to Brock, the chain dragging against the hard floor of the basement. “So, what made you come down to visit me, gorgeous?”

“Stop callin’ me that,” Brock snapped, clenching his fists by his side. 

Cal’s smile widened as he clearly got a reaction out of Brock. “Why? Don’t you like to be complimented, Brock?”

“Not by you,” Brock said quickly, watching as Cal continued to make his way towards his position on the stairs. Just as Jack had promised, the chain pulled tight a few feet short but Cal didn’t seem to mind.

“Oh, Brock, how you wound me,” Cal put a hand to his chest, a look of faux hurt across his youthful features. “But, you didn’t answer my question.” He met Brock’s eyes. “Why did you come down to visit me? I must admit, I had given up hope that you ever would.”

Brock opened and closed his mouth, trying to come up with a reason as to why he’d come down to the basement. He couldn’t really explain it. There’d been this pull, this urge he’d been fighting for the last few months. Despite Cal being deranged - - _sick_ \- - he piqued Brock’s interest. He wanted to learn more about Jack, Cal knew his boyfriend better than anyone. Jack had been honest with Brock, it had only been the two of them growing up. Their mother had ditched them after Cal was born and the only attention their father had shown them was when he needed a punching bag.

Something Brock could definitely relate to.

As Brock hesitated, clearly trying to wrack his brain for a logical answer, Cal’s brows raised. “Oh,” he sing-songed, “I see. You wanted to see if the monster that lived in your basement was real, hmm?”

Brock frowned and he found himself shaking his head. Cal’s expression turned into a curious _‘well what then?_ ’ Brock let out a breath, sitting himself down on the step and Cal’s eyes followed the movement. “You’re not a monster.” There was a moment of silence and Brock continued before Cal could interrupt. “You’re a man. Sick in the head but just a man.”

Cal’s eye twitched, it was such a small response to Brock’s words that the older man almost missed it. “ _Sick in the head_?” Cal repeated, nodding slowly. “I suppose someone like you might think that. Someone that doesn’t grasp the full extent of our reality.” Cal turned back to the bed.

“Then help me understand,” Brock called out, causing Cal to stop, turning on his heel. The younger man cocked his head in interest. Brock took and released another breath, “I want to . . . Understand. You . . . and Jack. Why you both did what you did.”

“Did?” Cal blinked.

“Well, yeah,” Brock nodded, as if it were obvious, “you’re down here so I doubt you’ll be doing any . . . Murdering any time soon - -“

“Don’t count on it,” Cal said nonchalantly, grabbing a chair that was tucked into a small dining table. He flipped it around so he could sit down, facing Brock.

Taking the threat in stride, Brock shrugged and continued, “and, Jack promised me he’d stop.”

The burst of laughter that came from Cal was a shock. Brock frowned fiercely as Cal continued to laugh. Cal wiped at his eyes. “Oh, that’s good. Sweet, loyal Jack. He’ll try, I’ll give you that one, because that’s who Jack is. But,” Cal offered Brock a grin, crooked and wicked, “he’s as addicted to the thrill of it as I am. He loves the hunt, Brock. He loves extinguishing the light of the world’s scum.”

“He doesn’t want to risk being caught,” Brock argued, swallowing thickly. He hated that Cal’s words made sense. Brock figured it was like smoking, really hard to quit once started. 

“Of course he doesn’t,” Cal agreed with a vigorous nod, “but, that doesn’t mean he’ll be able to stop. Be smarter than you look, gorgeous.”

“I told you to stop calling me that,” Brock narrowed his eyes, wrapping his arms around his legs as he stayed seated on the stairs. 

“And, I never agreed to stop calling you it,” Cal replied. He glanced over to the record player as the music came to stop. Standing back up, Cal walked over and changed the record, smiling as music filled the space once more, swaying from side to side for a few moments as he enjoyed the tune. “I have a game for you,” Cal said, turning back to Brock.

“A game?” Brock immediately shot Cal a wary look. 

“You want to understand me, right?” Cal made his way back to the chair, sitting down gracefully. He didn’t seem bothered at all by the cuff around his ankle or the chain he dragged around every time he moved. “And, I’d love to get to know more about you. More about the man who stole my brother’s heart. I hear you quit your job, so we have all the time in the world.”

Brock shifted on the stairs, trying to gauge if this was all part of some plan Cal had. Of course, Brock knew that Cal was planning something - - he was manipulative and clearly a psychopath. But, while Cal was chained up, he couldn’t hurt Brock and if Brock stayed on the stairs, Cal couldn’t reach him.

Really, what did he have to lose?

“Alright,” Brock nodded slowly, “what’s the game?”

Cal giggled, actually giggled. “Excellent. The game is quite simple. You ask a question and I have to answer it. Truthfully. No lies. But, then in turn you must answer one of my questions.”

“And, if I refuse to answer one of your questions?” Brock asked, knowing there had to be a catch.

“Then, you must complete a dare,” Cal grinned widely, green eyes lighting up.

“And, what if you dare me to jump off the roof?” Brock shot right back, making Cal laugh again.

“Oh, clever, clever, gorgeous,” Cal gave Brock a wink and he added, “the dares cannot result in either of us harming ourselves, deal?”

Brock thought about the offer for a moment. He understood that Cal would be getting something out of it but so would he. He’d learn more about the little brother that Jack cared for so deeply, in turn making him understand more about Jack himself. 

“Okay, you got yourself a deal,” Brock agreed and Cal clapped happily in response.

“Oh, goody!” Cal gestured to Brock with an elegant wave of his hand. “And, since I am nothing if not a good host, I’ll let you ask first.”

Brock let himself think for a moment. He could ask Cal anything. Did he jump right in and ask the hard questions like _why do you get off on killing people_ or did he work up to that by asking some more generic questions. Settling on the easier questions first, Brock asked, “what’s your favorite color?”

Cal seemed oddly pleased, leaning back in his chair as he seemed to settle in for the round of questions. “Green,” Cal replied and he laughed at the surprised look on Brock’s face. “You were expecting red, weren’t you? Sorry to disappoint, gorgeous. My brain doesn’t constantly revolve around murder.” Cal tapped his chin in thought and nodded, “okay, how about you? What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue,” Brock answered and he tried to ignore the flutter his stomach did at the smile that crossed Cal’s pretty features. 

What had he gotten himself into?

**********

That night while sitting at the dining table with Jack, Brock stuck his fork into a roasted potato on his plate. They were lucky that Jack was such a good cook and even enjoyed cooking because though Brock tried, he was rather helpless in the kitchen unless he could put it in the microwave. His mind was preoccupied by the hours spent in the basement with Cal. He’d learned a lot about the man; his favorite color was green, he preferred dogs over cats, he really enjoyed breakfast foods. It was odd. The more he learned about Cal the less he feared him, the more he seemed . . . Somewhat normal. 

Jack picked up on Brock’s distracted attitude, watching the man aimlessly stab a purple potato over and over again. “Is something wrong or did that potato offend your family?” Jack finally asked, an amused smile pushing up the corner of his lips. 

“Oh,” Brock glanced up at Jack, seeing that his boyfriend had been watching him. Clearing his throat, Brock set down his fork and rubbed the back of his neck. “I went down and saw Cal today?”

Jack blinked in surprise, back going straight, “you . . really? He didn’t . . . he didn’t try to hurt you or anything, right?”

Shaking his head, Brock answered honestly, “kinda threatened . . . I think? We - - we just asked questions ‘bout each other.”

“You did?” Jack’s brows went up, though Brock could see Jack was actually pleased. 

“Yeah, I mean, I’m by myself all day so I got bored. He was nice - - I think?” Brock’s brows furrowed and he added, “I mean, I know he’s crazy - -“

“He isn’t crazy,” Jack immediately came to Cal defense, like he always did. Brock knew the brothers relationship was complicated, they were very close to one another. “He’s more than the man you met a few months ago. So much more, Brock. And - - and I didn’t want to push you because I knew you had your reservations but . . . I wanted you two to become friends.”

“Is he even capable of havin’ friends?” Brock asked, picking up his fork once more to spear a potato and put it in his mouth.

“Of course he’s capable,” Jack insisted, “he’s really the most loyal person you’re going to meet. Once you earn his trust, Brock.”

Brock let out a soft hum, nodding slowly as he took in Jack’s words, “and, how many people have earned his trust?” He slowly lifted his eyes to meet Jack’s.

Jack hesitated a moment, green eyes falling down to his half finished meal, “just . . . just me. But, no one else has put an effort into getting to know him.” Jack reached across the table, raising his head to look at his boyfriend, “just give him a chance. You never know, he may surprise you.”

The two of them went about their evening like they normally did. They finished their meal, cleaned up the kitchen, watched some tv together on the couch. Just the average night for the domestic couple. As Brock got up to go wash his face and get ready for bed, he said, “see ya in a bit?” It was every night that Jack went downstairs to spend some time with Cal as Brock went to bed.

Jack nodded, standing up to drop a kiss to Brock’s lips, “yeah, I’ll be up in a bit. I love you.” 

“Love ya, too,” Brock smiled softly before turning to head upstairs.

Running a hand through his hair, pushing the dark lacks back from his face, Jack headed downstairs to where he kept his little brother. 

Cal heard the steps coming down and his head snapped in the direction from where he’d been reading his book. He grinned widely at Jack as he stepped down from the last step. “Hey, big brother, you’ll never guess what happened today!”

“Brock came down to visit you?” Jack guessed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. He knew his brother would never hurt him.

Pouting a bit, bottom lip jutting out, Cal sighed, “alright, so you did guess. Your lover told you we played twenty questions? I was quite disappointed I never got him to do a dare. He answered every one of my questions.”

“You are just trying to be friendly with him, right?” Jack asked softly, looking over at his brother who rested against the small mountain of pillows on his bed. Cal may be a captive but Jack made sure Cal had whatever he wanted. 

“I am always friendly, Jack,” Cal shot back with a playful grin, tucking his knees up under him so he could crawl closer to his brother. He ran a hand down Jack’s arm, slowly, “you know that.”

“I also know you wanted to carve into his face only a few months ago,” Jack pointed out, placing his own hand on top of Cal’s, entwining their fingers. “I want you two to be friends, Cal.”

Rolling his eyes, Cal plopped down on his butt, keeping his fingers locked with Jack’s. “You know I wouldn’t have hurt him, not really. Had I wanted to, he would’ve been hurt. I know you’re not that dumb.”

Jack gave his brother a look, brows furrowed, “did you try that on Brock? I’m sure he believed you, too. I know you, Cal. Had I not shown up when I did . . .”

Cal scoffed, yanking his hand from Jack’s, “all you care about is him. What about me? Have you even thought about why?”

Turning his body on the bed to fully face his brother, Jack carefully cupped Cal’s face, making his brother’s green eyes flicker up to meet Jack’s. “Of course I’ve thought about it. I’m sorry that you feel . . . pushed out, Cal, really. But, I love him. He’s good for me.”

“I remember when you used to love me,” Cal swallowed thickly, blowing out a breath. He pulled his face from Jack’s touch, immediately missing the contact.

“That’s not fair, Cal, and you know it,” Jack frowned, letting his hand drop, his fingers brushing against Cal’s outer thigh. He stroked his thumb over the pajama clad skin. “I love you, you’re my other half.”

“But, you love him more,” Cal argued, watching Jack’s fingers, “and, what’s this promise about not . . . hunting anymore?”

Jack’s hand paused from his stroking and his back stiffened. “It’s the truth. Without you, I’m not going to do it anymore. It wouldn’t be the same. And . . . I think it makes Brock uncomfortable.”

Cal snorted softly, rolling his eyes as he leaned back against his pillows again. “You won’t be able to stop, Jack, unless you give yourself some new jewelry, too.” Cal lifted his ankle with the cuff around it, wiggling it a bit. 

Frowning softly, Jack looked at the cuff on Cal’s ankle, guilt flashing in his eyes, his hands reaching out to gently touch it. His fingers brushed against the pale skin of Cal’s leg. Both brothers eyes locked in and a moment passed between them before Jack whispered, “I’m going to try and stop, Cal. I don’t know if I’ll be able to but I want to try for him.”

Cal’s jaw ticked with agitation. “Stop trying to be someone you’re not. If Brock doesn’t love you for who you are - - all of you. It’s time to end it.”

“It’s not that simple anymore, Cal. There’s - - there’s too much mixed up now. He knows everything - - mostly everything about us. And, I do love him and he loves me,” Jack answered, watching as Cal brought both legs to his chest, wrapping thin arms around them. 

“Whatever you say, brother,” Cal offered that smile that didn’t reach his eyes, empty and void of anything. “Play house with your little wife. It’s not like I can do anything about it.” Jack opened his mouth to argue, hating the divide that had come between himself and his little brother but Cal continued before Jack could get a word out. “Now, if you’d please leave. My exciting day has left me worn down.”

Jack nodded, getting up without a word. He leaned over to drop a kiss to Cal’s forehead, whispering into bright red hair, “I love you.” He turned and headed up the stairs without looking back, missing how the smile completely faded off Cal’s features.

**********

The winter months faded into spring and soon summer was fastly approaching. Things at the house were going well, in Brock’s opinion. Jack seemed to be behaving, and by behaving it meant not killing anyone - - as far as Brock knew. Brock found himself enjoying his days. He would straighten up the house, do whatever chores he needed done or run whatever errands needed to be done before going down to talk with Cal.

Brock hated to admit it but he actually enjoyed talking with Cal, getting to know more about him. He still wasn’t completely sure that Cal wasn’t playing him, that Brock wasn’t just some pawn in a wicked game between the two brothers. But, he found himself not really caring. The more time he spent with Cal, the happier Jack got and the more he learned about the brothers’ past. Cal seemed to be really honest with him.

Walking downstairs, Brock took in the sight of Cal in the small kitchenette, pouring himself a bowl of _Fruit Loops_ into a bowl. The younger man wore a loose green shirt that hung off his frame and a pair of black shorts. His hair was styled perfectly, a lock of hair falling tantalizingly over his forehead. Cal noticed Brock as soon as he stepped off the last step. The red head grinned brightly, adding milk into the bowl before turning to put the half-gallon back into the small fridge. The chains attached to the cuff was a constant noise whenever Cal moved but Brock had long since gotten used to it. 

“Lookie who stepped off the last step,” Cal’s eyes fell down Brock’s body dressed in a pair of nicely fitted jeans and a light blue t-shirt.

“Gonna make me regret it? Try and choke me with your chain?” Brock offered Cal a small smile, making Cal snort out a laugh.

“Oh,” Cal drawled, taking a bite of his cereal and swallowing before continuing, “ _kinky_. Didn’t know you had it in you, gorgeous.”

Brock rolled his eyes, sitting down at the small table that Cal had in the basement. The younger man approached as well, carrying his bowl of cereal and setting it down before he sat down across from Brock. It was the closest Brock had been to Cal since he’d been kidnapped. Cal watched him closely, his head tilted slightly to the side.

“So, what gave you the courage to get off your step, gorgeous?” Cal lifted his arm to get another bite of his meal and Brock’s eyes moved to the pale, freckled skin of Cal’s arm. He frowned when he noticed a mark that most definitely wasn’t a freckle, it was small and circular. It matched the scars that Brock had on his own arm.

“Did your father do that to ya?” Brock asked softly and he hated the thought of Cal being hurt . . . the thought gave Brock pause. He knew his feelings surpassed that of just general concern over his boyfriend’s little brother. Cal was a friend, one Brock saw everyday, talked to everyday. 

Cal’s green eyes flickered to look down at the scar, letting out a soft hum, “yes.” Nimble fingers danced lightly over the scar, tracing the outline of it with his nail, Cal continued, “I’m sure Jack has filled you in about daddy dearest.”

Swallowing, Brock nodded. They were getting into more personal territory. Up until this point it had been generic questions between the two of them . . . but, suddenly it was getting more real. “He told me ‘bout how your pops useta hit you both.”

Letting out a light chuckle, Cal nodded, “oh, yes. Dear ol’ dad,” Cal leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling, pale throat exposed to Brock. “He never liked either of us very much. But, he hated me. Blamed me for our mother running off with some,” Cal twirled his fingers in the air, “fitness instructor from the gym she liked to visit. He always said as he smacked or punched me,” Cal looked back at Brock, leaning into the table as he lowered the tone of his voice in an imitation of his father’s, “ _you’re the devil’s spawn. You nearly killed her in birth so she couldn’t stand to look at you anymore_.” Cal’s lips stretched in a smile and Brock felt drawn in, compelled to hear more, “it had nothing to do with the fact that daddy had a _mean_ temper. Of course not.”

Brock frowned, instinctually reaching out to touch the scar on Cal’s arm, feeling the rough, bumpy skin that was so similar to his own. “No child deserves to be treated like that.”

Shrugging, Cal let Brock touch him, seeming unbothered as he spoke about his childhood trauma. “I know some things about you, too, Brock. You aren’t so much different than Jack . . . than me. Daddy used to beat you, too, didn’t he?” 

Stiffening, Brock yanked his hand away from Cal’s skin, his eyes snapping up to meet Cal’s intense gaze. “I never told you any of that.”

Laughing, Cal shook his head. “Didn’t have to. You’re an open book, Brock. The way you carry yourself, with that _don’t mess with me strut_? Your tendency to snap and burst. You think I don’t see the look in your eyes? The fire burning behind them . . . a fire lit by the violence and suffering inflicted upon you? Your Daddy beat you because he didn’t have anything else to do. You were helpless to stop it, weren’t you, Brock? Just a child, too weak and helpless to stop his daddy’s fists - -”

Brock growled leaping out of his chair and grabbing Cal by the collar. He walked them back until Cal’s back smacked against the wall of the basement. Cal laughed the entire time at Brock’s outburst of emotions. 

“I’m not weak,” Brock snarled, his face inches from the snickering redhead’s. 

“Why, of course you are,” Cal tilted his head and Brock pulled him forwards and slammed him back again, not hard enough to hurt but he wanted to scare that stupid smile off Cal’s face. “You’re a scared little man just like you were a scared little boy. But, you don’t have to be scared anymore. I can see it in you, Brock. That fire licking at the surface. You want to be free. We can give you that chance.”

Suddenly, it all fell into place and Brock staggered back a few steps, letting Cal’s shirt go. His eyes widened and he shook his head, “I ain’t some killer.”

Grinning wickedly, Cal agreed, “not yet. But, you could be. You could be with Jack on his hunts. Protect him.” Cal gestured to the cuff around his ankle, “I can’t anymore so now it’s your job. It’s because of you that I’m locked down here - - because you came into our lives,” Cal took slow, careful steps towards Brock, “and stole my brother from me. Now, you get to take care of him the way I used to.”

“No,” Brock swallowed thickly, his fist clenching by his sides, “you’re down here because you’re sick in the head. Because you’re a murderin’ psychopath that would’ve taken Jack down with him! I didn’t steal anything from ya.”

Cal’s eyes flickered to the TV on the side wall, and Brock hadn’t even noticed it had been on, the volume had been on low. Brock frowned when he saw the headline, _‘Local Sex Offender Found Dead’_ and Brock felt his heart begin to beat faster. Cal jabbed his finger hard into Brock’s chest and he snarled, “he won’t ever be able to stop. He has this . . . delusion,” Cal fingers danced in the air by his head, “that he’ll be able to make the world a better place. Like the world isn’t a constant wheel that creates darkness in people. He feels like it’s his calling.”

Brock’s eyes snapped to look at Cal and he stammered, “you’re lying. That could be anyone. I’m sure that creep had lots of enemies.”

“Oh, no, I know my brother’s work,” Cal said, there wasn’t a hint of uncertainty in his tone and it made an uneasy feeling settle in Brock’s gut. “You fell in love with a _killer_ , gorgeous. Simple as that.” Cal let out a slow breath, a smile spreading across his face. “And, you’ll join him. Eventually.”

“You’re fucking crazy,” Brock shook his head, taking another step back towards the stairs. “This is why you’ve been so . . . nice to me? Ya . . . Ya want me to kill people?”

A thoughtful look crossed Cal’s expressive face as he tapped his finger against lips. Finally, he shrugged and relented with a nod. “At first I wanted you to get close enough so I could maim you a bit. Wouldn’t kill you because unfortunately for me my brother’s really grown quite fond of you. But, as we got to talking more and more, I saw it. The danger lurking in the shadows of your eyes. I believe we have a lot more in common than you care to admit, gorgeous.”

“I’ve told you to not call me that,” Brock growled, wanting to get away but somehow feeling frozen in place. Cal had that way about him, he drew people in, like an enchanting spell that the victim had no control over. 

Cal clucked his tongue in disappointment, “we’re back on that, are we?” He shook his head, heading back to the table and his forgotten cereal which had gotten soggy in the short time he and Brock had been talking. “Look, you can keep suppressing the fire within you, Brock,” Cal picked up the bowl, walking it over to the sink to dump out and rinse out the dish. “Or, you can embrace it, let Jack and I show you an outlet for it before it bursts out at the wrong time.”

“It ain’t gonna burst out,” Brock crossed his arms over his chest as he followed Cal with his eyes. 

Giggling, Cal flashed Brock a fond smile, “oh, gorgeous, the fire always wins. You can’t suppress it. It’ll just keep building,” Cal walked back to Brock, chain dragging against the hard floor, “and building,” he stopped right in front of Brock and leaned in to whisper in the older man’s ear, his breath running down the side of Brock’s neck, creating goosebumps on the tanned flesh, “until _boom_.”

********

Brock couldn’t get Cal’s words out of his mind. They kept replaying over and over again, making it hard for him to get any sleep that night. Jack’s body lay next to him in their bed, soft, even breathing let Brock know that Jack was fast asleep. Had Jack really killed that man from the news? It didn’t seem like something Cal would lie about and Jack had gotten home late the day of the murder.

What scared Brock the most was that he didn’t even care. He wasn’t afraid of Jack, he actually agreed that the man deserved what he got. He’d hurt little kids - - Brock was sure the victims slept better at night knowing that the man who’d hurt them couldn’t hurt them anymore. 

Huffing softly, Brock stared into the darkness up at the ceiling. Running a hand down his face, Brock eased up from the bed, trying his best not to wake Jack. He grabbed his flannel robe hanging on a hook by the door and slipped it on. He carefully stepped out of the bedroom and down the stairs. The main floor was dark and quiet but he could hear soft music coming from the basement. 

Cal was still up. 

Tying his robe closed, Brock frowned as he made his way to the closed basement door. His hand hovered over the doorknob before he let out a hard breath and twisted it. Brock walked down the stairs and peered into the basement, he quickly found Cal on the bed, reading a book. 

Cal looked over, slipping a bookmark into the novel and set it down next to him. “Hey, gorgeous,” Cal smiled, tilting his head curiously, “what brings you down so late? Trouble in paradise?”

Scowling, Brock stepped off the bottom step and shook his head. “No, jus’ couldn’t sleep.” He shifted from foot to foot anxiously. 

“What’s troubling that little mind of yours, gorgeous, hmm?” Cal swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He pushed up and started walking towards the kitchenette. “Want some tea?”

“Uh . . . yeah, sure,” Brock nodded, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he made his way to the table. He pulled out a chair and sat down, watching as Cal moved about to make two cups of tea. 

Cal glanced over his shoulder, “milk and sugar?”

Brock nodded, “please.”

Nodding, Cal finished making the drinks before walking over to the table. He set one cup down in front of Brock before sitting down in the chair across from the older man. Cal watched as Brock brought the cup to his lips and took a small sip. “I can tell you’re upset.”

“Tell me about . . . about what you and Jack did? You know . . .” Brock cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

Smirking around the rim of his cup, Cal took a sip of his tea. Setting the cup down carefully, Cal let out a sigh of longing. “After Jack saved me from daddy dearest, he just couldn’t stop talking about all the other people in the world being abused and hurt. He wanted to help in the only way he knew how and I just wanted to help Jack.” Cal shrugged his thin shoulders. “But, how did we go about catching our victims? For the first bit we visited a lot of clubs, a lot of bars.”

“Weren’t you only sixteen? Seventeen?” Brock frowned softly at the idea of young Cal in such places.

“A fake ID got me into the door but everyone knew I was underage,” Cal explained, meeting Brock’s eyes. “Jack was there with me at all times,” he reached out to pat Brock’s arm comfortingly, “don’t you fret, gorgeous. Though your concern about me is cute.” Cal smiled and continued, leaving his hand on Brock’s arm. Brock didn’t pull away. “We’d wait but there was always one. A man who liked what he saw. Liked his men young. The things these men would whisper in my ear, all the things they wanted to do to me . . . well, they were sick bastards, most of them old enough to be my father - - some even my grandfather. I’d take them to some motel where they thought they’d ravish me, and they tried. All of them. As soon as the door closed they’d kiss me, touch me, shove me onto the bed.”

Brock’s heart hammered in his chest. He hated the thought of Cal putting himself in such a position where things could go so wrong so fast. He was surprised that Jack would allow Cal to do such a thing, all for the sake of luring in pervy old men. 

“But, Jack was always there,” Cal’s lips pulled into a slow smile. “And, oh, did he hate how those men would put their hands on me. He made them pay though . . . every. Single. One.” 

“H - - how?” Brock breathed out, thinking of calm Jack killing someone. It didn’t seem possible.

“Oh, it differed from time to time. Jack likes to get creative and changing the way he did it helped keep us from getting caught. Police were never able to link one body to the next. Jack is smart. Always has been.” Cal stroked one finger down Brock’s inner arm, using his nail. It didn’t hurt but Brock found himself mesmerized by it. 

“Did you . . . did you ever actually participate? Or were you just the lure?” Brock asked, trying to figure out the dynamic between the brothers.

Looking thoughtful, Cal hummed softly. “Not very often. I like to watch. Jack gets his hands dirty. But there is nothing more thrilling than seeing that dangerous look in his eyes.”

Brock shifted on the seat, thinking about it. Again, he should be disgusted or angry or something. But, he wasn’t. He found himself wanting to see Jack in action. 

“As we got older, Jack developed a system for picking out targets. Real pieces of shit. People that no one would miss - - or people we were doing the world a favor for getting rid of. You’ll have to ask him more about his way of picking people. I never really cared to learn.” Cal moved his nail down Brock’s arm, over his wrist and into Brock’s palm, tracing the lines in the skin there. 

“Have you actually ever killed anyone?” Brock asked, his voice barely above a whisper. It was so odd they were talking about this casually.

Cal laughed softly, pale green eyes lifting to meet Brock’s eyes once more. “Delivered the killing blow? No. That’s Jack’s job. I’ve helped plenty.”

Brock wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Of course, Cal was unstable and dangerous - - he’d _kidnapped_ him - - but, it seemed like Cal just followed Jack around like a puppy. He did whatever Jack wanted. Perhaps Cal’s biggest sickness was his obsession with his brother. 

That was another thing that had been gnawing at Brock. The relationship between the brothers was close, extremely close. He never had any siblings before so he didn’t completely understand the bond but something about Jack and Cal’s relationship was different. 

Cal humming softly brought Brock from his thoughts and when he focused back on the younger man, Brock found Cal watching him with that amused smirk on his pretty, red lips. _Pretty, red lips_? Brock shook himself, trying to shove down his attraction to Cal.

“You’re thinking too loud, gorgeous,” Cal said softly, his tone low and soft. Brock hated how his voice - - how everything about Cal drew him in. He loved Jack and he knew he was meant to be with him but there was something about Cal that lured him in. Perhaps it was the danger there, like the ocean, hidden beneath the surface just demanding to be explored. 

“Why do you call me that?” Brock asked, swallowing hard as he shifted in his seat.

“Because you are,” Cal answered honestly, getting up from his chair and walking around the table. He knelt down smoothly between Brock’s thighs. Brock automatically widened his legs for better access, as if in a trance. Cal stroked his fingers over Brock’s inner thigh and Brock’s cock responded accordingly, tenting in his boxer briefs. 

Suddenly, Brock realized what he was doing - - what Cal was planning on doing. Jerking back hard, the chair tumbling to the floor and hitting the ground hard and loud, Brock shook his head. “I - - I can’t do this.”

Cal stayed on the floor, looking up at Brock. Something flashed in those green eyes that Brock couldn’t quite place. 

Before Brock could be lured back, he stumbled back and ran from Cal, taking the basement steps two at a time. He shut the door and leaned back against it, letting out a ragged breath. He ran a slightly trembling hand through his dark hair. 

What the hell had just happened?

**********

Brock had been acting weird the last few days. He’d been distracted and quiet and Jack wondered if it had something to do with Cal. Brock had been visiting Cal frequently and Jack knew that his brother had a way of getting under people’s skin. Cal knew how to read people, knew how to pick them apart and unravel them. Brock wasn’t used to Cal and Jack knew that his brother would use that against him. 

“It’s bath day,” Jack said as he dropped a kiss to the top of Brock’s head. 

Humming softly, Brock took a sip from his mug of coffee, “mm’kay.” He paused for a moment before tilting his head back to look at Jack. “We’re still going to the store later?”

“Yeah, we have to get some things for dinner,” Jack confirmed with a nod, stroking his finger down Brock’s spine. “You know the deal, don’t - -“

Brock let out a huff, rolling his eyes, “don’t unlock the door unless it’s you. No matter what.”

Giving his boyfriend a smile, Jack bent over to kiss Brock’s lips, “I love you.”

“Love ya too,” Brock murmured and Jack nodded, turning to head into the basement. 

Jack activated the locking mechanism to seal the door closed before heading downstairs to his brother. Cal was washing a dish in the sink before putting it on the drying rack next to him on the counter. After he finished, he turned and offered Jack a smile.

“Hey, brother,” Cal leaned back against the counter, watching as Jack made his way over.

“Hey, Cal,” Jack crouched down, pulling out a key from his pocket to unlock the lock securing the cuff around Cal’s ankle. “Bath day,” Jack continued, standing slowly after releasing the cuff.

“Is it already?” Cal grinned slowly, making his way into the bathroom, shedding off his sleep clothes. Jack released Cal everyday to change clothes and bath days were every two days. Jack watched as pale, freckled skin was slowly revealed to him, and his eyes caught on Cal’s ass. He shook himself, trying to regain control. 

Cal filled the antique claw foot bathtub with just the right temperature of water, pouring in some soap so the room quickly filled with the soothing scent of lavender. Jack sat on the closed toilet as Cal washed his body and hair. They talked about everything and nothing as Cal took his bath, and for a moment Jack forgot about Brock’s odd mood or the divide that had been forced between him and his brother - - of Jack’s own making. 

His brother drained the water and stepped out of the tub, wrapping a towel Jack handed to him around his narrow waist. Cal glanced over at Jack and watched him for a few moments before he took a step closer.

“Cal,” Jack warned softly, standing up slowly, his eyes locked on his brother.

Not saying a word, Cal closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Jack’s neck. Before Jack could say anything, Cal crashed his lips against his. It was desperate and needy and passionate as Cal attempted to deepen the kiss. 

Jack didn’t move for a few moments, remembering when this kiss has been his normal. He hadn’t tasted Cal in so long, hadn’t held his brother intimately, and he missed it. It felt like a piece of him was missing. A hole had been carved in the center of his chest, a hole which could only be filled with his brother’s caress.

However, Jack gripped both of Cal’s arms and pulled him away and the look of despair on his brother’s face was like a red hot iron stabbing Jack in the heart.

“We can’t, Cal,” Jack breathed out, a slight tremble to his voice. 

“I won’t say anything. He doesn’t have to know,” Cal promised and Jack knew he told the truth. Cal would do anything for Jack. His younger brother leaned forward again but Jack leaned back, keeping his hands on Cal’s arms to hold him away.

“It’s - - it’s not right. I’m with Brock now, we’re happy,” Jack tried to explain and the expression that crossed Cal’s pretty features was as if Jack’s words had physically hurt him - - perhaps they did. 

Jack watched as he broke his brother’s heart. 

Cal stumbled back and shook his head. He stormed into the room and started to get changed into a fresh outfit. Jack followed, his eyes locked on his brother as Cal trembled with emotion, making it hard for him to get dressed. His brother chose a comfy outfit for the day, one he could relax in. Cal’s red hair hung limply over his forehead and into his eyes and still dripped onto the basement floor. 

“Cal,” Jack finally called out, frowning in worry.

Cal’s head snapped up and he met Jack’s eyes. “Why the fuck didn’t you kill me?”

“What?”

Lifting his arms to shoulder height and then letting them slap down to his thighs, Cal repeated, “why didn’t you kill me? It would’ve been better than this!”

“I could - - I could never, Cal. I love you,” Jack swallowed thickly, taking a step towards his little brother, wanting desperately to comfort him. 

“This isn’t love,” Cal snapped, striding over to Jack, getting right into his space. “You’re keeping me locked down here while you,” he shoved at Jack’s chest and Jack stumbled back a step, “get to play house with him! I did _everything_ for you! My whole life - -“ Cal’s eyes blurred with tears and his voice cracked, “everything I’ve done. I _whored_ myself out at bars so you could have your next victim when I was sixteen years old. I’ve always been there for you.”

Jack lifted his hand and cupped Cal’s cheek and was surprised when Cal didn’t slap it away. Cal leaned into his touch and a few tears ran down freckled cheeks. “Just because,” Jack started, “I’m not with you physically anymore . . . that doesn’t mean that I don’t love you, Cal. Because I do. I love you so much.”

Cal let out a shuddering breath and pulled out of Jack’s touch. He turned and walked over to the chain and cuff, securing it around his own ankle and closing the lock.

“Cal - -“ 

“Get out,” Cal said low, not even looking at Jack as he made his way over to the bed.

“Cal, please, just - -“ Jack started but Cal whirled around and pointed to the stairs. 

“Get the _fuck_ out!” Cal screamed and Jack sighed before nodding once. 

Jack didn’t look back as he made his way back up the stairs. He called for Brock to open the door and he pretended not to hear the soft sobbing coming from below. 

**********

Something had happened between Cal and Jack. Brock knew it and the days passed by in troublesome tension. Whatever had happened, had happened on bath day. Jack had come back up looking guilty and upset and when Brock had questioned him Jack had merely shook his head and mumbled that he was going to go upstairs and get ready to head out. The next day when Brock went into the basement as he did every day when Jack went to work he was stunned to find Cal laying on the bed with his back to the stairs.

Brock had tried to talk to him but he’d only received silence in return. He stayed down for another several minutes before shaking his head and going back upstairs. Perhaps Cal was having a rough day - - Brock figured it was bound to happen being locked in a basement day after day. 

Until Brock was greeted with the same sight the next day and the day after that. 

“What’s going on with you and Cal?” Brock finally snapped one morning after watching Jack numbly go through the motions of making a pot of coffee.

“What do you mean?” Jack asked, he was already dressed for work. 

“Something happened on bath day,” Brock stated and Jack turned to face his boyfriend, mouth opening to argue but Brock shook his head. “Don’t give me the _nothing happened_ shit. Cal’s been in bed for the last three days. I don’t even know if he’s eating.” Brock was worried about Cal. He’d come to enjoy the younger man’s company and found himself missing it. 

Worry flashed in Jack’s eyes and he let out a sigh, running a hand through his dark hair. “We had an . . . argument.”

Brock lifted a brow and gave Jack an expectant look, “musta been a hell of a fight.” He shook himself and said, “call in sick to work.”

Jack blinked, “what?”

“You’re calling in sick to work so we can go down there and fix whatever you messed up with Cal,” Brock stated firmly, leaving no room for Jack to argue.

“Brock, I don’t think - -“

“No, Jack, you’re brother is layin’ down stairs . . . has been fer the last three days upset. You’re gonna fix whatever happened. Today. Call in sick,” Brock demanded, hands on his hips. 

Jack put up no further arguments about calling off for work. He simply nodded and left the room to do as Brock ordered before changing out of his dress shirt and slacks and into more comfortable clothes. Brock waited for him in the living room. Finally, Jack made his way back downstairs and headed towards the basement but stilled when Brock got up to go with him.

They’d never all three been in the basement together.

“Brock, I - -“ 

“You wanted me to become friends with him and I did. I’m worried ‘bout him,” Brock said honestly and Jack watched his boyfriend for a moment before nodding. 

The basement was silent, no TV or music or the sounds of Cal moving about. Brock's eyes quickly found the bed once they stepped off the last step. Ca hadn’t moved. He still lay on the bed, in the same clothes as before.

“Cal,” Jack started and his voice was soft, worried. “Brock and I are here . . .” Cal didn’t respond and Brock frowned softly, staying a few steps behind Jack as the older man approached the bed. Jack’s hand slowly reached out to touch Cal’s shoulder. “Cal, please, we can fix this.”

“No, we can’t,” Cal finally spoke and it was so far from his normal tone, it was so broken. What had Jack done to Cal?

“Cal, please, killing yourself isn’t going to help anyone - -“

“Fuck you,” Cal spat and he finally turned to face his brother. His skin was paler than normal, eyes red, with dark circles bruising below them. Cal had clearly not slept well the last few days. 

Jack sighed, taking in his brother’s appearance. He hated to see Cal so upset. He wanted to hold him and kiss him and tell him everything was going to be okay. “I know you’re mad at me, Cal. And, I’m sorry. But please . . . don’t keep hurting yourself. You have to eat - - you have to take care of yourself.”

Cal huffed out a bitter laugh and he shook his head, “what good am I alive? You don’t love me anymore. I’m just down here because you’re a _selfish fuck_ who couldn’t kill me.”

“If not fer him, do it fer me,” Brock spoke out and both brother’s eyes snapped to him. Brock stepped closer and he reached out to take Cal’s hand. “I like talkin’ to ya. I don’t . . . I don’t like seeing ya hurting like this.”

Meeting his eyes, Cal didn’t pull his hand from Brock’s grasp and he whispered, “you don’t understand.”

“You and ya brother are closer than normal brothers, ain’t ya?” Brock breathed out and he saw Jack stiffen out of the corner of his eye, confirming what Brock thought. He should be disgusted by it but again, he found himself accepting it with ease. Jack and Cal belonged together, just as much as he and Jack belonged together. Everything seemed to make sense, why Cal got so upset when he and Jack got together. Cal’s possessiveness.

Cal’s brows furrowed and he glanced at Jack and then back to Brock, “you . . . knew?”

“Not right away,” Brock answered, pushing some of Cal’s limp red locks out of his face. There were feelings he couldn’t really explain but being here, all three of them, it seemed right. “I knew you were close but then just the way both of you look when you talk about the other. How upset you got when we got together. I can be thick headed sometimes but I ain’t dumb.”

“You’re . . . you’re not upset?” Jack asked, watching Brock closely. 

“I know I should be,” Brock replied, looking over at his boyfriend. “But, I’m . . . I’m not?”

Cal slowly sat up and tucked his legs under him as he watched Brock closely. Brock felt Cal’s fingers brush against his cheek and Brock’s attention went back to Cal and there was a moment that passed before their lips met. It was soft and cautious and Brock heard the sudden intake of air from Jack. Brock knew that noise.

Jack _liked_ this.

Brock did too. He liked the feeling of Cal’s lips on his and he found himself lifting a hand to stroke his thumb over Cal’s cheek. The kiss deepened and Jack found his eyes locked on the pair. 

It was an odd thing, liking the sight of his brother and his boyfriend making out. But, when had things in Jack’s life ever been normal? In that moment Jack realized he needed to stop striving for normalcy. He needed to accept what his life was. Cal had been trying to explain that to him for months. 

Jack finally felt the piece in his heart filled. He had Brock and Cal and they all accepted one another for who they truly were. 

Some might call them insane and perhaps they were. But, Jack wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
